


The Moon Boy

by maddixx



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bulan!Yuuri, Dancing, Fluff, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Philippine Myths, Sidapa and Bulan, Sidapa!Viktor, Yuri!!! on Ice Secret Valentine, everyone's either half naked or naked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9617186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddixx/pseuds/maddixx
Summary: A story of love and life.Viktor has spent countless nights watching one of the seven moon dieties dance among the stars. With movements closely resembling his own in flawless execution, the God hatches a plan to entice the moon down from the sky and join him on earth as his partner in both dance and love.-Based on the Philippine myth of Sidapa and Bulan.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Quick note: In some versions of the love story Bulan is depicted as a child which is why I'm saying right away that all the characters in this fic are canon age. I need my healthy Viktor Yuuri lovin!

“The moons seem to be dancing a great deal this night.”

“Entrancing, aren’t they?” the young siren whispers, her gaze flitting from one dancer to the next. Her chin rests along her forearm as she leans upon a smooth stone with her tail gently swaying beneath the water.

“Quite,” his eyes shine with the fluid motions the diwata cast amongst the stars. He watches as the men’s bahags twirl about their legs and the women’s dresses and scarves fan like mist over the rocky shore. The laughter is enough to fill the God’s weary soul with life and the dance brings a thrumming to his aching heart. “They are truly beautiful, Mila.”

“I suppose it may be due to them being young and bright,” she chuckles to her not so young and bright companion.

He looks to her, faking pain and gasps with a hand raised to his bare chest. “Forgive me for my deathly complexion! And for your information I haven’t lost a _single_ hair from atop my head in twelve days passed.”

Mila gives him a skeptical look, “And the thirteenth?”

But he hadn’t heard her. With eyes captivated and his thoughts blurred, Viktor can do nothing but surrender his attention to the moons above. Skin white as the sandy shore with hair of pitch, one dancer in particular claws at the God’s stare and demands his watch as he effortlessly twirls over the stage of misty clouds. Tapping his heels and toes to the beat of the bamboo claps as his brothers and sisters dance to the tinkling, swapping in and out of each other to skip along to the beat.

His hands snake through the sky and jostle his gold bracelets like lures until they rise above his head and swiftly draw down the center of his chest and flare to the sides like a bird taking flight. Viktor has seen nothing like it, the articulate and smooth rhythm this deity possesses as he soars through the air, twisting and leaping with poise. Truly remarkable.

The drumming grows louder and faster and so does the thunderous bamboo claps. The young moon leaps into the fray of bamboo courageously and not a single soul dares to follow his lead as he maneuvers effortlessly in and out of the slapping bamboo. Viktor fears his ankle will be caught or a toe, but not a single slip up from the brilliant moon as he performs his marvelous dance. All his brothers and sisters cheer and clap their hands and stomp their feet, howling for their brother as he weaves his way back and forth, up and down through each tier.

Viktor realizes his jaw has slacked quite a bit and closes his mouth with a snap. He readjusts himself on the flat rock and reclines back to his elbows with one leg bent and the other straight. His bangles clank and scrape against the stone as he rests comfortably beside his friend who he had forgotten about until she gave a small “incredible” when the young moon jumped out from the tinikling dance and resumed with his previous dance, the one that managed to distract the God of Death.

“Do you think they ever look down?”

“What?”

Viktor clears his throat and runs an elongated nail over the shell of his ear to rid an itch. “Well they are moon diwatas, _I_ suppose they don't pay much attention to the realm below them. Do you?”

She ponders over his question when it dawns on her that the moons have indeed passed a glance upon the surface of the earth. “They would have to, how else would they pull out the tide when they rise into the sky? I've seen them do it before!” she points out towards the ocean. “I even thanked a moon once when he took the waves by hand and gave them a gentle tug to recede back to the depths.” Mila glances up to the diwata who has captured Viktor’s eyes with ease and then shoots her beloved friend a cheeky grin, “He's quite charming in fact. Soft spoken. A bit nervous at times, and by the Gods one day he'll find the courage to venture down just a bit longer and interact with the creatures of the wood. He only speaks to the ocean beasts, afraid to enter the forest at the base of your mountain.”

A hum forms at the back of his throat. “He's curious.”

Small gusts of wind begin to jostle the silver locks atop the God’s head and he tucks them away diligently incase the moons are looking, for now he knows they do, indeed they wonder and look, but from a distance.

“Mila, the name of this moon?”

“I wouldn't hold the answer. We've only spoken briefly from time to time. Courtesies and words of good health, nothing more, Viktor. But,” she gazes back up at the deities whose golden bangles distract the eye and the mind, “if you were to wait here as the sun sets and his arrival surely follows, you may find yourself deep in conversation with him and ask him his sacred name. Yes?”

“I suppose you're right my friend, upon the next night I will wait for him. Unaccompanied,” he proclaims with a bit of a lift to the corner of his lips.

Mila can only laugh. Pressing her palms to the smooth surface of the rock she lifts her upper body to be level with her God. “You know, I've heard other Gods speak fondly of the moons.” Viktor isn't pleased to hear this, in fact something stirs deep inside him and coils in his gut furiously. “Desire dripping from their lips. _Lusting_.” He looks to Mila with a look of unease. “With you, however, it's different. Is this _love_ , Vitya?” A snide remark, likely of a siren. Without an answer she presses her shoulder to his arm, at first gentle, until she applies her weight and leans. “Hhhmmm?”

A light blush illuminates his cheeks at the mention of the word. “Mila you mock me with such confidence. But that aside, I cannot be sure if what I seek is love just yet.”

“Is it just the ‘one’ you seek? Or perhaps the whole lot of them-“

“Now!” Viktor booms. His brows are arched in disarray but his smile is ever present as he glares down at the snickering sea witch, her bare chest shuddering with every intake of sharp breath. “Let us not delve into such dramatics,” his tone softens as he reclines back so he may lie flat against the smooth rock face. “I much rather spend my time watching a performance cast in moonlight.”

Mila sees the God rest an arm behind his head uncomfortably and can't help but state her mind. “Viktor,” she begins in a hushed tone, “return to your tree. The view is far more impressive there after all. Watch them where you find comfort,” she urges. She believes she's taken up too much of her God’s precious time and regrets it so. “You mustn't stay for the sake of my company. Go to your mountain, climb your tree, and watch the moons dance!”

He sighs. Not an irked sigh, but a tired sigh. Perhaps even a relieved sigh after sitting on cold stone for too long a time. Standing with purpose, the God pats down his garments to be rid of any sand. His silver jewelry twinkles and chimes with his movements, a delightful contrast to his obsidian skin. If not for his pale blue irises and the occasional blush, Viktor’s naked body would be a nightmare to Gods and mortals alike, for death reins supreme in the dreams of the living.

“Mila,” he addresses with a gracious smile. “As always, it was a delight,” a quip.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she huffs in faux disgust.

“Hardly ever, I'm sure,” Viktor rolls his eyes and begins his traverse across the shallow water. “Gentle tides!” He calls back to Mila, a hand raised in goodbye as his steps on the surface of the water. Small ripples are all that remain of his leave until he reaches the shore, dry and content to be so. Viktor is fond of the ocean and it's inhabitants but he has never liked the salt water. For demons wrench and twist in the deeper oceans awaiting their chance to snatch up those who dare cross them. This fear explains Viktor’s reasoning for never carrying traces of the ocean back to his home.

When he arrives at the summit of Mt. Madjaas, Viktor ascends to the canopy of his tree and makes himself comfortable. Gold flecks are strung from the branches that hang around the perimeter of his luxurious bedding of fine silver and golden silks and down feathers to provide a night’s sleep fit for a God. Gingerly, he settles down in his bed and exhales a long sigh through his nose when his body relaxes into the familiar and needed security of his sheets.

“Much better,” he mumbles, reaching to a low table beside his bed and brings a bowl of rambutan fruit to his lap. “Quite the dancer, aren’t you? Well,” Viktor smiles and pops the fruit into his mouth after he peeled it with his own nails, “I’m not so bad myself. And I could use a partner,” he fantasizes aloud.

“Oi!”

Viktor’s shoulders rise to his ears as he drops a fruit to the sheets and nearly loses all the little morsels in the bowl. He knows that vicious little voice anywhere and can't say he's too pleased to be hearing it now.

“If you're going to be spewing bile from that freakish mouth of yours this late at night I’ll take you by the horns and _toss_ you to the forest floor, old God!”

Viktor snickers to this and picks up his fruit from the silk of his bed and drops it back into the bowl one by one.

Yuri takes a few steps closer to Viktor's throne of fabrics with arms crossed and peers down at him in disgust. His blond hair hangs loosely along the frame of his face which is decorated with native flowers woven into a beautiful crown. The gold bahag sits nicely along the curve of the tamawo’s hips. It is beaded with precious gems he no doubt stole from Viktor's mountain.

“Oh Yuri, how I believed you wouldn't be here in my own home so late, and with _threats_.” Very delicately the God of Death drags a finger tip from the base of his silver horn over small ridges up to the tip with a light flick of the wrist. “Not particularly fond of being held by the horns. That aside, what brings you here my little sprite?”

An irritated growl is all which Viktor receives from the boy and that's when it dawns on him.

“That look,” he ponders and pops a peeled fruit into his mouth. Chewing and swallowing, he resumes, “Had I forgotten to do something earlier today?”

“A sacrifice, you fool!” Yuri explodes and snatches the wooden bowl from the oblivious God. “You forgot to receive a sacrifice! A mother of a sick child had sacrificed a crocodile in your name to keep her daughter alive, and you sit here admiring the moons?”

“To be fair I sat with Mila before I came back-“

“The sea devil,” Yuri hisses.

“Yes, your loving friend-“

Yuri points a finger ruthlessly in Viktor's direction, “We are nothing of the sort.”

“Which makes it so comical, don't you agree?” A smile ghosts over the God’s lips as he reaches into the bowl his counterpart had so rudely taken.

Yuri can do nothing but snarl in distaste at the comment of friendship. He'd rather drown himself than call Mila his friend, if anything she was a hag who liked to play jokes on the tribe fishermen and kill them occasionally with her songs. Yuri just liked to watch.

“Are you going to collect your offering and grant this girl life? Yes or no, Viktor.”

“Yes yes,” he waves off and stands from his bed. “Out of all the tamawo you are the most obnoxious, Yuri.” Viktor speaks down to the boy and softly removes the bowl from his hands and holds it close to his own chest.

“I aim to be.”

“I'm sure,” and with that Viktor pats the boy on the head and sets out for his sacrificial shrine deep in the woods at the base of his mountain.

About five minutes pass when the God of Death is struck with an idea, quite literally.

A bug had flown straight into his forehead at the exact moment Viktor was thinking about the nameless moon.

“What if…” he whispers to himself. “What if I could lead him down to my mountain during the night when he's more likely to see? Provide him with a star lit path that guides him to me… But how… Land stars do not exist…”

Another bug flies directly into Viktor's neck and he grows so irritated by the feeling that he shoots a tiny fireball from his fingertip at the insect. It doesn't kill it however which upsets the God, but instead the light is stored in the hollow of its abdomen and shines bright for a moment only to dull into darkness. Viktor found his eyes catching the light of the bug in his peripheral and followed it as it floated away lazily, disappearing in the night only to reappear further and further away.

“That's how!” He jumps, a smile stretching to his ears as he clutches his horns in anticipation. “I will guide him with my fireflies.”

So Viktor made work of his new discovery for the next few days, casting fire into the flies that droned about in the woods at night. He trained them to hover in one spot and form a pathway from the sandy shore—where he watched the moon pull the waves back—all the way to the base of Mt. Madjaas.

And Viktor would of course need more than glowing bugs to seduce his dancing moon and requested the sirens and night birds sing for the boy and lure him down. He also willed the wildflowers to bloom and secrete their most enchanting scents. And finally after a week of preparation, the God finally executed his plan.

The sirens and birds sing their most splendid tunes to the heavens and the flowers release their intoxicating perfumes that float right up to the moon’s nose.

Suddenly the boy stops dancing and is struck by surprise when he peers down to a star lit sea shore, right where he had landed to pull back the waves hours before.

“Why has he stopped dancing?”

“Do you smell that?”

“So sweet!”

“What beautiful singing!”

“Are those the sirens?”

“Why so late do they sing such melodious songs?”

All of the brother and sister moons have stopped dancing at this point. They're all too distracted by Viktor's gifts to notice their brother’s decent to earth.

The diwata floats down to the shore, hypnotized by the songs of the sirens and the lights from the floating stars. His toes curl into the sand and he very carefully turns his head and looks about, clutching his bicep cuffs out of habit. Making himself small in an unfamiliar realm.

There are many trickster creatures on earth and he isn't too fond of passing one so late at night. Covered in gold, the moon is a likely target of theft. From his head that crowns a gold chain headpiece, to his earrings, assortment of bicep cuffs, wrist bangles, ankle bangles, and a toe ring on each big toe. And lest not forget about the gold choker necklace and the ringed pendants that are strung in his bahag. A target. A very noisy, and flashy target.

"No one brings you harm here," he tells himself and pats the side of his face. "No one brings you harm."

Nervously the moon steps forward and follows the path of fireflies that seem to hover over a clear cut path leading into the wood.

“Wow,” he whispers and manages to collect a fly on the tip of his finger as he reaches for it. “You're cute, aren't you?” he snickers as the bug takes flight to return to its post, fading in and out of sight. “Why haven't I seen you before? I would have, even from the ocean…wouldn't I?” he asks himself more than the fireflies.

“They're newly created,” a soft voice answers him.

“Oh!” the moon shrieks and spins around to find a mermaid he hadn't noticed that was just a few feet off the path. “Mila,” he deflates after he recognizes her. “You frightened me.”

“Forgive me,” she giggles and steps onto the path lit with slow strobing insects. She's completely naked, a sight the moon is familiar with when she bears legs rather than a tail when water is absent. “I supposed I would inform you of what was going on.”

“That would be helpful, I'm rather confused!” he laughs nervously and brings his hands together in front of him.

“There is a God...“

“A God?” he chokes.

“Yes, beyond the wood and up the mountain who wishes to see you.”

“ _See_ me,” an embarrassed gasp.

“He's fond of you, inspired by your dancing.” Mila stands toe to toe with the moon and places a gentle hand to his shoulder. “He's gone to great lengths to get your attention. He’ll be delighted to know you've come,” she smiles wholesomely.

“A God, are you sure?”

Mila cackles, “Yes! Yes. Now hurry along before he grows impatient and comes looking for you himself.”

“But I, M-Mila?” he splutters in confusion only to have the siren step behind him and give him a gentle push forward.

“Go on,” she grins.

So the moon does as he's told and continues on with this mysterious but welcomed journey through the trees and low bush. He passes flowers that smell of pure nectar and can't help but stop every so often just to close his eyes and inhale their sweet aroma.

After what seems like an eternity of sensory overload on the most heavenly scale, the moon is met with a change in terrain and a beautiful half man.

There before the moon is a kinara, a gorgeous man from the crown to the waist and a majestic bird to the talons and tail. He had seen a creature similar to this one years ago on his many journeys to earth but none could compare to this. With a rust assortment of belly and leg feathers and an impressive fan for a tail draping behind him, the moon began to wonder if he too had the capability of flight. Most kinara possessed the power to conjure wings upon their backs or transform their arms and yet he had neither visible wings behind him or in front of him. Perhaps he hides them in fear of losing them? Creatures of the forest have been known to grow nasty among one another in times of great stress, the moon is very aware of this. Another strange feature that has the moon left without words is the jar the kinara clutches to his chest like a precious stone. Odd. Very odd.

The jar is decorated with a small necklace that bears a wooden pendent no doubt carved by a supreme being, the kinara himself maybe. Creative creatures they are. But what’s in the jar is even more perplexing. A sediment like substance fills the jar up to the brim. _It can’t be sand. Why would he carry around a jar of sand?_

Unsure of what to say or do, the moon waits for the stranger to speak first and luckily he does.

“Welcome diwata. I will be your escort from this moment on.”

“I see,” he nods unconvinced of the creature’s true motives. “And where is it we go?”

The boy glances down at the razor-sharp talons of the alluring creature, his toned stomach, the jar of sand, and finally his deep blue eyes. They peer gently back and he answers with a kind smile, “To the top of Mt. Madjaas where the God of Death sits in waiting for your arrival,” he bows his head, black hair pointed to the ground with his motion.

The moon blinks slowly and replays the kinara’s last sentence in his head. Rolls it around a bit like some wine on his tongue, unsure of the taste and finally swallows. “…Who?”

“A God. The God of Death, to be precise. He has made a grand gesture to bring you down to this earth and would very much like to see you, diwata. I myself, as well as the other beings who live so close to Viktor, believe he wishes to court you. So very romantic coming from a God known to be distant from the two L’s he cherishes.”

“God of…Death? The God of Death?” He can’t seem to believe it. “You fib!” he laughs incredulously.

“That’d be the one, and no. I’m happy to say that our God has chosen you to court,” the kinara bows once more in respect.

“W-what…why-“

“Will you walk with me?” the blue eyed creature asks charmingly, swiveling on his talons and starting up the mountain without another glance back at the moon who is sure to follow.

“Wait!” he calls helplessly and follows his guide in a flurry of nerves. “This can’t be true…” he ponders. “O-out of all my brothers and sisters, and all the Gods and creatures on land, in sea, above sky! Why has Vi… the God of Death chosen me to court?” the moon begs the question as he walks beside the kinara now sweating in anticipation.

“No one knows for sure. Rumors flutter in the leaves, they whisper words of inspiration, beauty,” he gazes deeply into the moons brown eyes, “desire. Related to your dancing of course, so the nay sayers believe. But I feel there is something deeper. Something raw and powerful that you have struck Viktor with.”

“Wha… Desire? And if anything I’ve been inspired by the God of Death! He has inspired my dancing this whole time!” the moon rushes out in full panic. “Ever since I was smaller and he no bigger I would watch him dance by the dark pools at the base of the mountains and cleanse the earth with his power, bring life back to the dying and take that of which was too far gone. He…is everything…”

“Save your flattery, diwata,” he chuckles. “We all watch your lewd dances-“

A shade of pure crimson tosses the moon’s bright complexion into one of utter embarrassment and he shrieks, “Hah?! Lewd?”

“Come now!” a booming laugh from the kinara. “You can’t possibly think those moves were ones of innocence and gentle play? You may be referred to as a ‘boy’ by the mortals. But here? Viktor sees you dance as you truly are; a seducing man. If anything, you’ve captured his heart, not the other way around.”

_That’s something to think about. The God of Death. Viktor. Has found inspiration in nothing more than a moon diwata? Me? Yuuri? And after all this time… But why is it so surprising?! Hadn’t I been dancing for him in the first place? Viktor was my motivation, my whole world and finally my hard work has paid off… So why… Gods why do I deny this moment and the moments after when I see him for the first time? Face to face and not from the sky, peering down and smiling to myself while my sisters and brothers sleep throughout the day and I, awake to watch my God dance for the sick and the old and the healthy and the new? Why do I deny this moment? I must see him no matter my worry and no matter my cowardice. I must see this God and tell him, truly, how I feel. How I’ve always felt… And perhaps…perhaps he does feel as the kinara said and he will reciprocate those very emotions I carry. I know him to be a gentle God, not one of malice or ill content, but merciful and granting those who ask for it. Life and love._

Minutes dwindle to seconds, to milliseconds, and suddenly the kinara is stopped. The moon has stopped beside him as well, and there before them stands a tree that tickles the underside of heaven. It reaches far beyond sight can manage to calculate and the moon finds himself loosing feeling in his fingertips the harder he unconsciously clenches his fists.

“Diwata,” is spoken in a whisper. “A staircase spirals to our God in the heart of the tree. You must go alone, for my body grows tired and stiff from the journey to the summit. Greet him as you would any other, he is a kind God after all.” A hand rests comfortably on the moon’s shoulder and suddenly slides past the bare shoulder blade and to the base of his spine to apply a small push. “Go, he awaits you.”

Guardedly, he takes light steps towards the opening in the tree. Toes pressed to blades of wild grass that tickle the soft flesh of his unburdened skin. Years of living in the sky has done his feet a blessing, smooth to the touch and unmarked by the rough terrain earth has to offer.

His eyes are glued to the massive tree. Viktor’s home.

Marks riddle the base at varying heights and the moon knows what they represent. The lives of mortals. Once they grow or falter to their marked height, they die. Viktor claims back what once was his. The thought is chilling and warming at the same time, the moon can’t help but shiver in place.

Light stimulates his senses as a firefly hovers just a foot before the diwata and urges him forward with a fading light into the tree’s threshold. Before he can take another step though, the moon twirls around to watch his guide’s retreating back all but disappear into the darkness.

A glimpse of the creatures shoulders was enough to have the moon’s heart aching in his deflating chest. Scarred and tattered skin is all that remains of what the kinara once possessed. He had wondered where they were, and now the moon had his answer. The wings all but gone. “How” or “why” they had been removed was but another secret, one that would surely reside in the very back of the moon’s mind. A thought for another time.

Gazing into the darkness of the tree, the moon boy sucks in a cooling breath and enters his God’s home.

The staircase is long, but he makes it to the canopy none the less and comes face to face with a God’s sleeping chamber.

He stands before an enormous bed of satin and silk spread across the wooden floor at the heart of the canopy. The tree had formed into an upturned hand with it’s palm supporting the resting area the God used. Branches cage and leaves become moving walls with the delicate gusts from the sky. Gold flecks hang from vines above the bed to act as night chimes and reflect the light of the stars and moons throughout the canopy with small twinkling sounds.

“Beautiful.”

The moon almost screamed, instead he gasped and shot his glance to the figure who had crept out from behind the center of the tree. He had never heard a voice so enchanting and if that wasn’t intimidating then the appearance of the God of Death was enough to have him choking on air and collapsing to his knees with his head pressed to the floor in absolute submission.

“Please.” His timid laugh is daunting. “You do not have to bow.”

“You are a God—I must-“

“But you _mustn’t_ ,” he smiles with his lips alone and spans the few steps needed in order to kneel beside the diwata.

The moon feels fingers trace at his shoulder and finally rest at his cheek and gently coax him to lift his head. There he makes stunning eye contact with icy blue rings and nothing more. They pulse in anticipation the longer he gazes helplessly into them as they illuminate the moons face in a blue hue. Much like Viktor’s eyes, his body has a similar effect. Full on this very night, the moon diwata is at his brightest and casts a small glow into the dark around him and it reflects clean off of the God’s own skin.

“ _Truly beautiful_ , I had thought when I saw your dancing in the clouds. _Truly beautiful_ , I say again as I look at you for the first time, so close, and so full of light.” Viktor’s smile has yet to resign the longer he looks across the scape of the moon's face. “Please,” he begins softly, “would you grace me with the sound of your name?”

The moon hesitates as the word trips over his tongue until Viktor’s look of eager curiosity has him smiling along and he just has to announce it. “Yuuri.”

Viktor drags his fingers beneath the boy’s chin and stresses him to tilt his head higher, holding his gaze passionately. “What a name,” he breathes and Yuuri catches a glimpse of those vicious and pointed silver teeth behind blackened lips. It excites him just as much as it horrifies him and he can’t help a gasp that escapes his lungs.

Like a clap of thunder following lightning, Yuuri smacks his hand over his mouth and backs away from Viktor so fast he falls flat on his butt with a thud and a pained grumble. “Please! I meant no offense! I’ve never seen-“

“Don’t be ridiculous, Yuuri. If I punished every man, woman, or child, mortal or immortal that started at the sight of my teeth, _everyone_ would have a welt atop their head the size of a fig,” he snickers. “But I am not a God of punishment. My physical appearance would suggest otherwise.” His shoulders shrug to this and suddenly he’s on his feet.

Yuuri almost looks away when he sees the God from a short distance, standing before him, dark and tempting. Almost.

His muscles don’t bulge to disgusting proportions but they are well defined in the moonlight. In Yuuri’s light. Thankful for his luminescence he flits his gaze across Viktor’s entire figure. From his small ankles to his meatier calves and thighs past the shell of his naked butt and up the expanse of his abdomen and chest which bears silver jewelry that cascades over his shoulders like a scarf would. Down his shoulders to his manicured hands with their elongated nails that come to soft points, Yuuri can see the excellence behind the God. Then he finds his neck, his jaw and chin, a nose perched over thin lips and eyes so chilled by ice they cool the nerves bound in Yuuri’s chest. His silver hair is cropped and groomed, a part more towards one side than the other.

The horns are the most impressive. A pair of horns sit comfortably at the very top of Viktor’s head. They swoop outward slightly only to wind back just a bit and form sharp tips that point behind him regally. Only a foot tall it doesn’t seem they give the God too much trouble after he had been living with them for millennia. Their silver color ties in with the rest of his complexion so well and the ridges in the bone accent the power he wields.

“By all means, take your time,” Viktor reaches out towards Yuuri with a promising gesture. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around your essence as well. If you’d like you can come closer. It’s up to you.” He turns his back and flashes Yuuri a peek of his exposed hip that can’t be covered by his bahag alone. “I can tell you’re hesitant and my greatest fear is to scare you away-“

“You don’t scare me,” Yuuri assures him sternly as he stands to his feet, bangles rattling with his quick movement. The God looks over to the moon in shock and just as quickly as the fire came it slowly dies out. “I-I meant to say…I’m not scared of your appearance, your gestures, your kind acts. Others would find this unsettling and egotistical of a God. Seducing a moon from the sky to court him here on earth. But that is not how this story will end for you and I. The rumors are true,” Yuuri hesitantly pads over to the God who now stands awestruck by his bed.

“I have been trying to impress you with the way my body can move about the clouds. I experimented with different mindsets, who I could portray and how you would interrupt it…f-for the better…I’d hoped. A-and I danced every night for years and decades and centuries.” Chocolate brown eyes meet those icy blue once again and Yuuri holds it for all its worth as he speaks his next sentence from the heart and only the heart, “I dance for you Viktor. I always have. Do I imagine it peculiar you chose me…out of everyone, everything? I haven’t let the thought wander just yet, I still find you a bit impulsive.”

A laugh filled with joy from the God.

“But I need you to know that I only followed those fireflies and the smell of those flowers and your kanira and climbed those wooden stairs to this very spot because I knew this whole time, whether we intended it or not, we had to meet. I had to see you no matter how brief or how long. To pass up a moment like this?” Yuuri pauses, out of words to say, and he just holds back a cry and smothers his tears as he shakily shrugs his shoulders and holds out his hands in bewildered exhaustion.

Viktor very carefully brings his hands to Yuuri’s shoulders and steadies his rattling body. Emotions flood him as he wears an expression of empathy and trails his gaze across the moon’s cringing face.

“I’ve worked so hard to impress you, my God,” a whimper finally drips from his quivering lips and Viktor can do nothing other than wrap an arm at his twitching back and cradle his head against his own shoulder. Yuuri latches to him and sobs quietly, his true emotions finally flooding out of his being after centuries of bottling it and concealing the frustration and pain behind his dance.

“And you _have_ ,” the God whispers soothingly into the younger’s ear. “Yuuri you have impressed me. And I thank you so deeply for the dances you allowed me to witness. You are a gift. And your efforts have not gone unnoticed, I swear to you.”

“Thank you,” he whines through gritted teeth, “Viktor!” His cry is filled with conviction and surrender to the words his God speaks. Yuuri knows all will be okay, all will be as it should.

“I’ve found you. I-I’ve found you,” Viktor chokes back a weep. Out of all the ways this night could have gone, it never occurred to Viktor that it could have ended up with him consoling Yuuri and himself after a loving telling of the soul from one to the other.

His eyes find distraction beyond the parting of the branches that overlook the valley below. The fireflies light the night air in a pattern of twinkling stars. Yellows, purples, blue and greens all speckle the valley. Viktor thanks them mentally for their work and relinquishes a strained sob. “I have you in my arms, Yuuri. And I will never let you go.”

They cry for a bit longer until dawn opens up and the sky is a pink and purple serenade. Yuuri has been failing to stay awake since his brothers and sisters retired for the night. Viktor took notice right away and very carefully set his moon down into his bed under the gold flecks.

He makes gentle work of sitting at the edge of the cushions and removing the jewelry strung about Yuuri’s body. You’re never to sleep in gold or any metal for that matter otherwise it will be stolen by small elven thieves. Once Viktor de-jewels the diwata he proceeds to do the same for himself and locks all of their precious gems and such away in the heart of his tree by sealing the bark back over the hole. Nothing can pierce it as it is protected by a spell only Viktor can reverse.

Yuuri has found the center of the bed and curls into a tight ball in his sleep. Viktor contemplates even getting in and joining him. The moon looks at peace and Viktor would hate to disrupt that peace.

A hand rested under his chin, he waits for a signal to give him a clear answer. There is none and so he decides to join Yuuri. The sheets are lifted and Viktor tucks himself beneath them slowly, making an effort to keep from rousing Yuuri. Very delicately Viktor sets the sheets over the other and waits for any sign of movement. The only peep he gets in return is a tiny, nasally snore. The God lies there speechless and trying to hold back giddy laughter after such an endearing noise.

But then out of the blue the boy turns, his front now facing Viktor, no longer his back and he reaches out with a gentle hand and presses it to the God’s chest, just above his heart. Breaching the space between them is no easy task Viktor comes to find out. He can feel his body being pulled by some unseen force which keeps him away from the moon.

Thoughts are rolling about in his head telling the God he should keep his distance. A sleeping moon is not to be woken. Yet he feels this incredible urge to wrap an arm at his back and hold him as if his life depended on it. How is it a moon can attract so much feeling?

Yuuri can feel the heat of the God beside him and through his sleep he craves it. His body shifts yet again only this time he untucks his legs and stretches them so he may press up against Viktor completely. Toes brush against toes and knees bump beneath the sheets eliciting both a feeling of gratefulness and panic in the God. He has never lied with anyone and he fears this may be the last time. Yuuri poured his heart out later that night but he is a moon, and a moon’s place is beyond the clouds and dancing with an audience of stars.

_Will he leave the very next night to return to his stage? I won't stop him, I couldn't! Keeping Yuuri from his realm is selfish and denying his will to dance and spread his light over the earth with the rest of his brothers and sisters would be cruel. And I am not a cruel God. But I can be selfish. I pray he stays here after all I had done to grab his attention. After all the words spoken and tears cried. I pray._

He can hold back no longer, he wraps an arm around Yuuri and cups the back of his head with his hand. In return Yuuri nuzzles closer until he is completely pressed against the God with one of his own arms slithering up and over Viktor's side to embrace him in his sleep.

The touch is lightning over a bare plane. His body is roaring with a static charge of feelings and Viktor begs them to stay as he brushes foreheads with Yuuri, eyes closing for the day. He drifts into a deep sleep set on by exhaustion and they remain in one another's arms until the moons rise again, dancing to their usual tunes.

Yuuri is the first to wake and he's slow at doing so. His eyes make an effort to roll into the back of his head with each time he tries to lift his lids. Bumping his leg into someone else's is when he snaps out of whatever sleep spell he was under and recoils back nervously.

The horns are the first thing he sees, like a crown of twisted silver. Then a pair of electrifying eyes open lazily to discover a boy looking very unsure of himself.

Viktor reaches out to him still half asleep and brushes the backs of his knuckles across a warm cheek.

“Don't be frightened,” he murmurs. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

Yuuri nods to this in full agreement, “You hadn't done anything wrong, I-I merely forgot where I was,” his voice is thick with grogginess and he clears his throat with a small grunt to be rid of the hideous sound. “I've never slept with anyone else in my bed before. It was quite the surprise to feel someone wrapped around me,” Yuuri blushes and raises his hand to press Viktor's softly to his face.

“A good surprise?” Viktor asks, hoping for a positive response.

“A wonderful surprise,” is the reply and the God is thrilled to hear such sweet words careen off such beautiful lips. The urge to touch those lips grows the longer he stares. Yuuri can feel the desire radiating from the God’s being and is drawn to it helplessly. He feels the hand move beneath his own and let's go so that it may travel to his lips. Viktor’s fingers are feather like as they pause just at Yuuri’s chin while his thumb presses lightly against parted lips and rubs to and fro.

“Tell me, Yuuri,” his thumb slides to the corner of his mouth and rests. “What is it you want from me?” Viktor whispers, dragging his nails up Yuuri’s cheek, past his forehead and begins to comb back his dark hair. “I can give you anything and everything,” Viktor presses.

“A lover?” Yuuri mumbles unsure of himself.

Viktor ceases the carding of his fingers through Yuuri’s hair and slaps a puzzled look onto his face.

Yuuri doesn't understand the reaction at first until he listens to his own words echo through his head. “Oh! Nono! I don't want _a_ lover, I was asking if… You asked what I wanted of you, I want _you_ to be my lover. I would want you to be my lover…if that is what you would want of course…”

Viktor's expression returns to normal and a small smile etches over his lips. “It is, Yuuri,” he trails off as he leans forward and kisses the moon on the forehead.

“Not there…”

Viktor snickers and keeps his lips pressed to Yuuri’s skin. “If not there, then where?”

The moon raises his hand and traces a line from the God’s forearm, up to his shoulder and down his spine until his hand is splayed at the base. “Where you had been looking originally,” is the only hint he provides.

The God of Death takes a hold of the back of Yuuri’s neck and slides his nose down until it greets another. His mouth opens very little as does Yuuri’s and Viktor presses forward to engage. The kisses tumble from their lips in slow casting waves. They nudge their heads back and forth gently, savoring every moment of passion induced contact.

Yuuri is lost in Viktor’s kiss. He can taste the earth from his flesh and feel the connection between the God and all living things. Night birds are chirping in the distance, crickets rattle off their melodies, the trees sway and leaves shake and the soil is damp with a fresh rain storm. Yuuri can feel the heat of a fire burning deep in the heart of the forest, can feel the crystal pool as he steps into its depth and submerges himself in dark valley water to cool. Flowers relinquish the smells of sensual bliss and their colors captivate.

A gentle suck pulls at Viktor's top lip and he smirks at the feeling. “Yuuri,” he exhales during a break in their mouths. He sits up on the bed and Yuuri follows his lead without hesitation with clouded vision and heavy eyelids. The moon wastes no time pressing a hand to the center of Viktor’s chest and leaning in for another kiss.

Viktor would be stupid not to welcome him. Lips are pressed together yet again and Yuuri makes his way on top of Viktor to recover that closeness by lifting a leg and straddling one of the God’s. His hands clasp down on sturdy shoulders to keep the God trapped in his love. Viktor doesn't mind. He encourages the moon with a hand lying softly on his neck and another hand pressed firmly to his hip.

A few more open mouthed kisses go by and the God begins to pant between them. Yuuri has a great deal of stamina and he isn't about to let Viktor get away so easily. A hand is raised from the shoulder to silver bone and Yuuri takes a menacing grip at the base of one of Viktor’s horns. He cautiously probes his tongue against Viktor's lips and even readjusts his position so he is straddling Viktor’s waist.

The God relinquishes a defeated moan, brows scrunched together as though he were in pain and wraps his arms around Yuuri’s lower back for he needs something to ground him. Viktor greets the moon’s tongue with an open mouth and slicks his own over it, exciting both of their senses.

“Well I'm disgusted to see your plan worked.”

Viktor and Yuuri dislodge their lips and swing their heads around in the direction of the young and agitated voice of a boy. Blond hair a flower crown and a jeweled bahag, a boy who would seem kind and gentle is nothing of the sort when Viktor is present.

Utterly embarrassed, Yuuri turns a shade of blood and swings his leg up and over Viktor’s lap and crashes into the sheets to evade the stare of a mere teenage creature.

“Leave us you _cruel_ beast!” Viktor shouts in spite, even stands from the bed and backhands the air to get his point across, sending a gust of wind that pushes Yuri back a few feet.

“Sorry for interrupting your baby making ritual, old God,” the blond snickers.

“Yuri you know that's not how that works!”

“Of course…?” Yuuri mumbles from the bed, cheeks blotched and rosy. “I'm not a woman…”

“For the love of the Gods,” Yuri grumbles. “Is his name the same as my own?”

“Leave!” Viktor bellows once more and Yuri scampers off back down the stairs. “He needs a bell, that tamawo,” he pinches the skin between his nose and turns to Yuuri who now sits up in bed.

Viktor grows embarrassed and lowers his gaze. “Forgive me, Yuuri… I don't think I can continue with our previous-“

“Neither can I,” he giggles in assurance, “not after that.” But perhaps the intrusion brings a time where Yuuri can ask the God a few questions. “You have quite a few creatures that speak friendly of you.”

Viktor sits at the edge of the bed, interested in where this is going. “Indeed I do. Most creatures here on Mt. Madjaas I know by name.”

“The kinara who escorted me to your tree..?”

“Georgi,” Viktor smiles.

Yuuri opens his mouth only to close it.

“What is it?” Viktor asks politely. “His wings?”

“Y-yes. I noticed they looked as though they had been removed and scarred over,” Yuuri explains, picking at the sheets anxiously.

“Georgi got into a fight with another kinara. It does not happen often, but when it does they fight to the death. Most times they'll both end up dying from their wounds. Talons as large as his can severe limbs,” Viktor adds. “They fought over a shared lover.”

“Kinaras have a fierce loyalty, so I've heard,” Yuuri nods.

“Absolutely!” Viktor couldn't agree more to that. “Fierce is an appropriate word to define it. The other kinara found out about Georgi’s interest in a woman he too loved from a nearby tribe and ambushed him in the night. He had his wings torn from his back but was luckily able to slay the other kinara in the end. As for the jar he carries? Georgi ended up confessing his love to the woman he fought for and they would marry. Eventually however, Georgi would outlive his mortal bride and she would die many years later. The jar he carries are her ashes.”

Yuuri takes a moment to process the story he has just been told. One of romance, turmoil, and grief. “That's…incredibly heart breaking.”

“Kinara take the chance to love mortals, knowing the consequences of that decision. I know it may seem wrong to, but you shouldn't pity Georgi, or any other kinara. Their jars are a symbol of loyalty to their lovers, not eternal sorrow,” Viktor affirms with a small smile and a gentle rub of his hand against Yuuri’s knee. “You can surely learn a thing or two from them. I know I have.” He leans in close and leaves a little peck on Yuuri's cheek.

“Viktor?” Yuuri blushes and keeps his gaze firm on the sheets.

“Hm?” He hums back in a gentle reply, fingers slicking back his gorgeous black hair.

Yuuri has waited so long for this moment and after such a wonderful story he has to act on it. “Will you dance with me?”

Viktor goes to nod his head eagerly when Yuuri opens his mouth to continue.

“Not as my God,” his brown eyes meet blue, “but as my love?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed reading my fic!
> 
> Leave a kudo or a comment! Maybe even both! <3


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